


The Bargain

by Teland



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Companionable Snark, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Face-Sitting, First Time, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Magic, Making Out, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Polyamory, Pseudo-Incest, Religious Content, Rimming, Romance, Rough Oral Sex, Stalking, Telepathy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6226702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"*Athos*. *Mate*. You were about to fuck him through the *bedrock*." </p><p>"I do have *some* self-control —" </p><p>Aramis gathers the cloths to rinse them in the lake. "Friend Athos, were you or were you not letting Porthos make the plans today?" </p><p>Athos blinks — </p><p>Stares at Porthos — </p><p>Stares at d'Artagnan — </p><p>"I was about to fuck him through the bedrock."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nobody has consumed enough wine for Porthos to make the plans. And yet.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Houndstar](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Houndstar), [Outcastspice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outcastspice/gifts).



> Disclaimers: Not mine, except for what is. 
> 
> Spoilers/Timeline: Completely AU, don't worry about it. 
> 
> Author's Note: I've been batting around the idea for a Greek Mythology AU for the better part of a year now. Journeying through a curiously floraphilic aesthetic blog with Houndstar just brought it all back, and, oddly, gave it something like a plot. "Something like."
> 
> Acknowledgments: Much love and adoration to Pixie, Houndstar, Melly, Spice, Mildred, Sergei, and, of course, my Jack, all of whom provided audiencing, hand-holding, sploosh, and wonderful ideas. Thank you!

The wineskin is full, the cheese is ripe, and Aramis is out of his tree — these are all excellent reasons to be in a good mood, Porthos thinks — 

"I do, too," Aramis says, and, all of a sudden, there are little pink — edible — flowers all over Porthos's hunk of cheese. 

Porthos bites. 

Considers — 

Considers more... 

"Too sweet?" 

"Mm," he says, and has a swallow of the somewhat-sour wine. Much better. 

Aramis makes balancing motions like his hands are a scale — and then carpets their clearing with little *white* flowers, which send up a scent a little like musk. 

Nice, that. 

"It reminds me of your tail," Aramis says, and lounges beautifully. 

Porthos looks back over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the stubby little thing — 

"Just the tip, mind you —" 

Porthos tries *harder* — 

He can *feel* Aramis smiling evilly — 

Porthos sighs, gives up, and eats more cheese. 

Aramis scratches Porthos's furry thighs with his woody toenails, which always feels bloody *wonderful* — 

"You can keep that up indefinitely —" 

"I will stop *immediately* if you don't tell me what's wrong." 

Porthos scowls. 

Aramis slows the scratching down. 

"Aw — it's the same thing as always —" 

"The farmboy." 

"I know I shouldn't —" 

"But you do," Aramis says, and sighs, flinging an arm over his eyes. The flowers turn red. "We all do."

"We all do, yeah, even Athos —" 

"Where is Athos?" 

"Stalking him, I'd wager," Porthos says, and eats more cheese. 

Aramis sighs. 

Porthos sighs. 

"It's only that —" 

"He's right there," Porthos says. "Being that — *that*." 

"*Yes*," Aramis says, flinging his arm back from over his eyes. "Why can't they stay larval forever?" 

"Well... there was that thing with the gods —" 

"Yes, yes, you know what I *mean*," Aramis says, sitting up and glaring at him. 

"Oh. Right. Yeah," Porthos says, scratching at the place where his left horn grows out of his head. Always gets itchy when he gets too sober *and* randy. Like when they all get to thinking about —

The farmboy. 

Aramis makes a disgusted sound. "He wasn't — he wasn't *anything* before." 

"No, he wasn't," Porthos agrees.

"He was — small." 

"Yes." 

"And — skinny!" 

"That, too —" 

"And he had an annoying nasal sound to his voice!" 

"Actually, I didn't mind his voice too much —" 

Aramis looks at him. 

"— but I was clearly wrong about this and everything else." 

Aramis nods. "Also — why aren't *we* stalking him?" 

"Because you'd just kidnap him," Athos says, walking into their clearing and stealing the wineskin. 

"You could *ask*, you know," Porthos says. 

"May I have —" 

"*No*. Give it *back*." 

"Hm," Athos says, and drinks deeply. 

"Arsehole," Porthos says, and smacks Athos's one extra-branch-y antler so that his whole head goes wobbly for a moment — 

"The fact that I haven't *yet* gored you says nothing about my future activities," Athos says. 

"What about your activities *today*, friend Athos, mm?" And Aramis sits back on his elbows. "What *is* the farmboy doing?" 

"Well... he tried to shoot me. Twice." 

They all wince. 

"He *did* think I was a deer at the time, though, so I'm reasonably certain that I still have a *chance* —" 

"Why *aren't* we just *talking* to the boy?" 

"Because we'll *kidnap* him," Athos says, as though explaining something to especially slow children, but — 

But. 

"I've an idea," Porthos says, and grins. 

"Wait, I haven't had enough wine to listen to one of your ideas, yet," Athos says — 

Porthos cuffs him again — 

Athos grins at him — 

And Aramis garlands Athos's antlers with little blue flowers. 

"Thank you very kindly, Aramis." 

"You're *welcome*. What is your idea, friend Porthos?" 

"Right. Well. It's this: We kidnap him." 

Aramis splutters. 

Athos covers his face with his hands. 

"Bear with me for a moment —" 

"*No*," Athos says — 

Aramis is still spluttering — 

"It won't be just *any* kidnapping —" 

"Oh, a *special* kidnapping. *Wonderful*. We wouldn't want d'Artagnan to have nothing *exciting* to say when he calls on the gods to avenge him —" 

"Here's the beauty of my plan, you sod — he won't be able to do that." 

Athos blinks and frowns. 

Aramis frowns, as well. "What... what are you saying?" 

"We'll make a bargain with our lovely little lad, eh? The gods *love* that. The gods eat that *up*. We'll *kidnap* him — say, because he's been eating all our forest *bounty* —" 

"And then... we make a bargain with him," Athos says, and smiles *hungrily*. "He can go home *if* he solves our impossible challenge. That's *brilliant* —" 

"Oh, sod impossible *challenges*, Athos! He can go home if he *wants* to," Porthos says, and grins. 

Athos frowns again. "What?" 

Porthos laughs just as filthily as he can and butts at the air a little. 

"Porthos, what are you —" 

"He can go *home* if he *wants* to... after he gives *us* a full night to be *convincing*." 

"Oh... fuck." And Athos blinks and swallows and licks his lips. 

Aramis's autumn-gold eyes shine. "I see *no* reason to wait." 

"Athos?" 

"I — I — let's go."


	2. Who needs plans?

As it happens, their farmboy puts up an *impressive* fight, even after they reveal their true forms. 

Possibly especially then. 

Still, that's what they have Aramis and his incredibly large selection of pollens and powders for, and their farmboy goes right to sleep once Aramis finds the right one.

Porthos takes great pleasure in carrying him off into the deep, dark woods. 

In the feel of that long, rangy body over his shoulder — 

The scents of his sweat and strain, his hard *work* — 

Doesn't he know that they'll take such good care of him? 

Doesn't he know that they'll *always* — 

"He doesn't," Athos says. 

"Yet," Aramis says. 

And that's — 

That's true, but it's almost impossible to take with these scents in his nose, with this skin against his own — 

"We are almost there, my Porthos," Aramis says, and garlands his neck with strongly-*sweet*-smelling flowers, distracting and — 

Not what he *wants* — but absolutely what he needs right now. 

Porthos breathes deep and focuses on moving, and moving, and *moving* — 

Following the idiosyncratic path Athos has to take because of his massive rack of antlers — 

And then they're there. 

The body of water is not *really* large enough to be a lake, but it's their lake, anyway, and the caves to the east are cool and echo with strange music during rainstorms, and there's a big, flat rock that's large enough for two of them to bake themselves in the sun on at a time, and, of course, enough trees and grass for Aramis to feel comfortable in all of his forms. 

They lay d'Artagnan out in the shade of one of the trees and take turns lying with him while the others soak in the lake. 

Aramis thinks d'Artagnan will wake up 'soon', but his exactitude for things like that with humans isn't always the best. 

And — 

And, in the end, they're all sitting around him — 

Watching as he moans in his fitful sleep —

Watching as he *struggles* to wake —

Porthos leans in to sniff him —

To — no, he's not to lick at his sweat, *yet* — 

Not *yet* — 

They all sigh. 

"He *will* be all right," Aramis says, confident and — not calm. None of them are calm. 

None of them are — 

"This isn't," Athos says, "like chasing nymphs all over hill and dale." 

"Though that is fun," Aramis says. 

"That it is," Porthos says, and hums. 

d'Artagnan moans in his sleep — 

They stare at him. 

Athos flares his nostrils. "We... might want to reconsider..." 

"We do *not* want to give d'Artagnan an impossible challenge," Aramis says, "because the gods frown on that —" 

"But —" 

"— and they always give the hero ways *around* the challenge, and then the hero hates the person or people who gave the challenge in the first place." 

Athos grinds his teeth.

"I know, mate, I know," Porthos says — 

"We *want* him —" 

"Yeah, and we've got him now, and we'll —" 

"We've wanted him for... a long time," Athos says, flaring his nostrils again and tossing his head. His antlers look heavy on his head. His body looks *strained* — 

And they're all feeling it. 

This patch of woods has been theirs for a damned long time — long enough for them to have lost count of the number of farmers who had moved in just over *there*, raised families over — few — generations on the poor soil, then left. 

When d'Artagnan's parents came, they'd thought it would be just the same. 

Another family of humans to mostly ignore — and sometimes torment in idle ways. 

Another family of humans to guide away from the more dangerous parts of the forest. 

Another family of humans to dally with — if they cared for it, and if they were pretty enough... 

But. 

But there was d'Artagnan. 

Who was just a child when he *was* a child, but who has grown up tall, and strong. 

Comely, of course. 

Dark with the sun, soft-haired, and a good shot with his bow — Athos must've had to dodge *well* —

A young man who laughs well, and often, when visitors come to his farm, even though his parents had died of some illness years ago, and another man had come to take over the farm and finish the job of raising him. 

A young man who helps all who *need* help, with generosity and grace — hadn't he broken off his own work to help search for that little boy who'd wandered away from the family traveling down to the city? 

Aramis had had to move into a *tall* tree and hand the boy down from branch to branch so that Porthos could guide him into d'Artagnan's path — 

They'd all watched the two families celebrate the reunion that night, from the shadows. 

They'd watched, and marked d'Artagnan's modesty, and his genuine happiness for the traveling family's *relief* and happiness — 

And they had wanted him. 

They had watched him grow, and work, and work *more* — 

And they had wanted him. 

They *have* watched him day after day after — 

And they've wanted him, and they still do, and — 

"Friend Athos," Aramis says gently. "Porthos's plan is *still* the best." 

"It's *possible* that we could've talked to him," Athos says, and smiles ruefully.

"No," Aramis says. 

"Not without the kidnapping, mate." 

"No, yes, not without the —" 

"I mean, let's be realistic here," Porthos says — 

Athos *coughs* — and nods to d'Artagnan. 

Who is awake. 

And glaring at them. 

Aramis garlands him in lush white flowers — 

d'Artagnan growls and tears them away, sitting up — 

"Oi, that's not very nice —" 

"You *kidnapped* — who *are* you people?" 

Porthos smiles ruefully. "Porthos." 

Athos inclines his head — slightly, he's being careful with that rack of his. "Athos." 

And Aramis smiles ruefully, too, and offers a ravaged white bloom. "Aramis."

d'Artagnan stares at Aramis for a long moment — 

Stares at Aramis's eyes, and his nails, and — 

"Fuck. None of you are — human." 

Athos raises an eyebrow. "No." 

d'Artagnan scoots away from them a little — "What do you *want*?" 

They look at each other — 

They — 

They have one chance at this. 

Porthos swallows and turns back to d'Artagnan. "You — and your family — have been poaching in our forest, mate," he says, gently. 

"Oh — fuck," d'Artagnan says, face draining of a lot of its colour. "We'll pay you back! Our farm is doing all right, and — what do you need? Our cow gives good milk, and we should have some really nice olives this year, maybe not too many, but —" 

"We want you," Athos says, and — all right, that was a bit ominous to start things *out* — 

"Um. What?"

"What our stag friend is saying, lovely d'Artagnan," Aramis says, "is that the only thing we truly want is you." 

"Stag — and — I recognize that rack. Haven't I tried to shoot you, like, a *lot*?" 

Athos huffs a breathy excuse for a laugh — he hasn't managed more than that since a run-in with the gods had *left* him... 

Well, he shifts. 

Into the huge, black, arrow-drawing, spear-drawing, javelin-drawing, madman-who-wants-to-wrestle-drawing stag. 

"Oh — *oh*," d'Artagnan says, and scoots back further — 

(For various reasons I'd rather not speak about at the moment, I have to shift into this form... often. And draw the fire of every trophy-mad hunter around.) 

"*Fuck*! I'm not usually — I only hunt for *food*, most of the time —"

Athos shifts back and crouches again — "We know. We don't blame you for taking aim at me. The gods demand that you do it." 

d'Artagnan pants — "Just — the poaching?" 

And this... is starting to feel wrong. 

It's not like they *really* care about d'Artagnan and his father taking rabbits and mushrooms and — 

Aramis looks at him — 

Athos *looks* at him — 

Porthos licks his lips and turns to d'Artagnan. "We've a bargain to offer you, mate." 

"A... bargain?" 

"Just so," Aramis says, gesturing — 

And then there's a vine *locked* around d'Artagnan's left wrist — 

And Aramis is tugging gently, and smiling softly. "Give us one night, with you." 

"What — what?" 

"Give us one night," Athos says, and he's flaring his nostrils again — 

Again — 

"Give us one night," Porthos says, and — can't. "Because we've wanted you. We've wanted you... a long time." 

Aramis and Athos stiffen and *start* to stare at him, but — 

But honesty is better than bargains and — 

And anything.

Everything. 

They've learned that the hard way just from getting along with each *other*, and — 

"One night," Porthos says, and offers d'Artagnan the wineskin. "We won't hurt you." 

"We *won't*," Athos says, and flares his nostrils *wide* — 

"One night," Aramis says, and tugs d'Artagnan closer with the vine Porthos knows is stronger than any iron — 

Stronger than anything that isn't shaped by a *god* — 

And d'Artagnan grunts and lets himself be tugged, staring alternately at the vine and them — 

Heart pounding — 

Porthos can *hear* it — 

But he's still young, and his cock is rising under his chiton. 

"*One* night, lovely d'Artagnan, and we know you are excited by the possibilities..."

He shudders — 

Stares — 

"One night — and you'll let me go?" 

They're all hiding *pained* winces, but — 

But. 

They're not monsters. Porthos nods, and offers the wineskin again. "Let us please you, lad." 

"Oh... um." And he looks at each of them in turn, lingering on Porthos's horns and his own rising cock in its furry sheath — 

On the dark fur trailing down to Athos's already-rock-hard cock — 

And on the — 

"Did you have to put flowers around it *already*, Aramis?" 

"I wanted it to be *alluring*," he says, lying back and spreading his legs — 

And tugging d'Artagnan closer — 

And showing him a secret. 

"Oh — *oh*..." And d'Artagnan grunts and swallows as Aramis frames his *cunt* with pink flowers. 

"Yeah, lad?" And Porthos grins and leans in close to that blushing-dark ear. "Is that what you want first?" 

"Is he — is she — is —" 

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" And Porthos kisses d'Artagnan's ear.

"He — he's a he? You're a he?" 

"So will the gods," Aramis says, and shrugs on his back — 

And wriggles — 

And spreads his legs wider. "Do you like what you see?" 

"I've never — I've never seen... is that — can I — oh fuck," d'Artagnan says, and looks round at all of them, panicked and obviously hungry. 

"Why don't you kiss him, d'Artagnan?" And Athos's voice is... calmer than it was. And a lot hungrier. "Why don't you kiss his cunt." 

d'Artagnan's cock jerks under his chiton —

He grabs it and cries *out* — 

"I think that might be a *bit* too advanced, for now," Porthos says, and pulls d'Artagnan back against him — 

Wraps his arms round that strong body — 

"You smell perfect..." 

"I — I — I —" 

"Tell me I can make you come." 

"Please — fuck — I can't —" 

Porthos licks d'Artagnan's cheek and ear with his long tongue — 

"*Unh* —" 

"Just say yes, lad. We'll take care of you. We'll take — such good *care* —" 

"Oh — oh — *please*!" 

"Good enough," Porthos says, and *yanks* d'Artagnan back until he's sprawled over his lap — 

Until his chiton is hiked *right* up — 

Until he's flailing a little — and aimed right at that beautiful, flower-bedecked cunny. "I know you like it fast, d'Artagnan," Porthos says, and starts to stroke — 

"Fuck — *how*?" 

"We've watched you," Athos says, staring *hungrily* —

"We've watched every — oh, every chance you've *given* us," Aramis says, stroking his cock and resting on his other elbow — 

Staring *fixedly* at Porthos's hand *working* on d'Artagnan's big, big human cock — 

"Out in the fields at sunset," Porthos says, and gives d'Artagnan a squeeze — 

"Please!" 

"Always waiting until your work is done..." Athos growls. "You're such a good boy." 

"We *want* you," Aramis says, and strokes himself *slower*, *harder* — 

"Oh — oh, *fuck* — I don't know where to *look* —" 

"You'll have your chance to see everything," Porthos says, and reaches for those bollocks with his other hand, but — 

"I want to taste you *everywhere*," Athos says —

— Porthos doesn't get to do more than *cup* those bollocks a little before d'Artagnan is going rigid and shouting, pumping, coming all *over* Aramis — 

He actually overshoots his cunt the first *few* times — 

But not the rest. 

Porthos grins and butts him a little. "*Good* job, lad. You've got him all creamy..." 

"UNGH —" 

And d'Artagnan spurts a little more, right on Aramis's hole. 

Porthos growls. "Even *better*..." 

Athos huffs. "I'm back to thinking he should kiss it." 

"Mm — oh — I don't know, brothers," Aramis says, breathlessly tossing himself off. "He may wish to... stir it around first..." 

d'Artagnan makes a *desperate* sound — 

His cock spasms *again* — but doesn't actually spill anything more. This time. 

*Yet*. 

He's young, and staring all around — especially at the *mess* he's made — and licking his lips. "What — what *should* I... I mean — I don't — you *know* I don't know what to do... if you really *have* been watching." 

Aramis groans — "We have, we *have* —" 

"All the *time*," Athos says, and rolls onto his knees — 

His cock is *dripping*, but he's not touching it — 

He always likes to *deny* himself a bit — 

Porthos doesn't. He licks some of the sweat from d'Artagnan's throat. 

"Oh — that feels good..." 

"Does it?" And Athos is staring *intently*. 

"Yes — yes — I like it —" 

"Would you like me to do it to you." 

"I — don't know," d'Artagnan says, panting. "Do you want to? Do you — what *do* all of you want?" 

"Everything," Athos says — 

"I —" 

"Bloody everything," Porthos says, and sucks right behind d'Artagnan's ear — 

"Oh fuck —" 

"*Everything*, lovely d'Artagnan, but come fuck me, first, come see how it feels, let me teach you —" 

d'Artagnan groans and *spatters* them with pre-come. "I — I want that. I want that. Are you sure — I mean — what if you get *pregnant*?" 

Athos huffs — 

Porthos snickers — 

"If I do, lovely boy, your family's crops will be blessed indeed," Aramis says, leering and *yanking* on the vine around d'Artagnan's wrist — 

Porthos releases the lad — 

d'Artagnan shuffles close, moving between Aramis's legs and panting and staring and panting more — and stopping. "Wait, wait, what did that *mean*?" 

Porthos *snorts*. "He's a *dryad*, love. He's not going to give birth to any babies what need to be cuddled up in swaddling." 

For a moment, d'Artagnan just looks at all of them again, looks *hard*, like maybe he's wondering how he'd wound up in this position, but then — 

"d'Artagnan," Aramis says, low and hungry. "Your come is dripping all over my flowers..."

"Oh... maybe. Maybe I should. Clean it up. First," he says, and licks his lips. 

Aramis winces —

Athos tosses his head — 

And Porthos... growls. 

d'Artagnan shivers. "Was that... no? I — I don't —" 

"That was *yes*, lovely d'Artagnan, that was..." And Aramis grins and shakes his head. "We will teach you what it means to be wanted, hm? To be *desired* most *powerfully*." 

"I — you don't — you don't even *know* me!" 

"But we know you're a good boy," Porthos says, and bites the back of d'Artagnan's neck — 

"Ah —" 

"And we know you're a kind boy," Athos says, and scratches at the ground. "We've seen it with our own eyes." 

"Oh — fuck — sometimes I'm — unkind —" 

"This is so?" Aramis sucks his teeth. "We will cure you of this thing," he says, scooting back and back and — 

"No — don't go —" 

Aramis laughs teasingly. "Not *too* far, lovely boy. Only far enough to let you *clean*." 

"You're a *dutiful* boy," Porthos says, and sucks the side of d'Artagnan's long throat — 

"Oh, that feels so *good*!" 

"We know that about you, as well," Athos says, clawing the ground more. "We know... so much.

"Please — please let me — make you feel good — oh fuck —" And d'Artagnan blushes *deeply* — 

Porthos strokes him all *over* for a long moment — 

Sucks *harder* — 

*Laps* — 

d'Artagnan *groans* — 

Athos *pants* — 

Aramis *growls* — 

And Porthos pulls back. "Sorry, all. Just um. Yeah. You all *know*." 

"We do, yes," Aramis says — 

And d'Artagnan laughs, high and wild. "I *don't*!" 

"Consider it another lesson in your desirability," Athos says, and *looks* at d'Artagnan like — 

"You — you look like you want to *eat* me, Athos." 

Athos raises an eyebrow. "I do. Though not in any of the permanent ways." 

d'Artagnan laughs hard for the little joke, bright and free and beautiful — 

And Athos drinks it right in. 

They all do.

They all do. 

And, this time, d'Artagnan can see them doing it, see them wanting him, needing him — 

See them *devouring* him, and — 

He licks his lips. "I... I don't want to... disappoint you..." 

Then don't leave. 

None of them say that out loud. None of them — 

Aramis laughs, bright and wild and capable of pretending *enough*, and tugs on d'Artagnan's wrist again. "Why are you worried about disappointing us, lovely boy? We have so much to *show* you..."

"Oh, but —"

"Shh, lad," Porthos says, and gives him a little push. "I think you've some cleaning to do." 

d'Artagnan pants — "Oh. Oh, yeah. Please — please..." And he bends his head, long hair swinging... 

Athos moves close enough to tug it out of the way — 

And touch the marks Porthos has left on d'Artagnan's neck — 

And kiss them while d'Artagnan kisses Aramis's *cock* —

"Oh — lovely boy, I don't remember you leaving a mess there..." 

d'Artagnan moans and moans and starts licking up his own come immediately, long strokes of the tongue that don't leave one spatter behind, that don't leave one petal unturned in search of *more* — 

Aramis groans and lets his legs *splay* — 

Porthos grins. "You whore." 

d'Artagnan chokes and coughs and looks up — 

Aramis blows Porthos a kiss, and a *rain* of little red flowers falls all around them. 

Athos pats d'Artagnan's back. "Don't pay them any mind, d'Artagnan. They're always like this." 

"But — so disrespectful!" 

"Lad, *lad*!" And Porthos peers round to look d'Artagnan in the face. "There's no profession a satyr respects more than whoring!" 

"I... suppose that does make sense..." 

"Too right, it does! Now, lick that cunny!" 

"Oh — I'm sorry, Aramis!" 

Aramis is biting the tips of his fingers — 

He's *strangling* his cock with the fingers of his other hand — 

He *sucks* his fingers — and slurps them out of his mouth. "Make it up to me...?" 

d'Artagnan moans and *dives* in, licking and licking and — yes, kissing. Gentle kisses, mostly — right at the base of Aramis's cock — 

And Aramis is moaning too much to be helpful. 

"Kiss him a little harder there — though you'll want to be gentle like that with a human woman until she says otherwise," Porthos says — 

"Yes," Athos says. "The differences in anatomy will guide you, to a certain extent —" 

"Mm?" 

Aramis arches — 

"Oh, yeah, do *that*, lad," Porthos says, stroking his back while Athos strokes his neck — 

*Massages* his neck — "Yes, d'Artagnan. Make... a great deal of noise." 

d'Artagnan moans against the base of Aramis's cock, laps and moans and kisses — 

"Good — good *boy*," Aramis says, and starts stroking himself again, fast and *sweet* — 

And d'Artagnan flushes right down his back. 

Porthos rubs nice, soothing circles right at the base of that spine — 

Athos *squeezes* d'Artagnan's *neck* — 

d'Artagnan moans *more* — 

"That's perfect, d'Artagnan," Athos says, which, really, it is in a lot of ways, but — "Why don't you move down to his cunt?"

But that. Exactly that. 

Athos grins at him. 

d'Artagnan kisses his way right down — 

There are flowers stuck to his cheeks — 

And d'Artagnan slips his tongue *into* that cunt once he's in position — 

Aramis makes a strangled sound — 

"Do that *again*, lad," Porthos says, and grins. 

"Do that... a lot," Athos says. 

"In fact, don't stop doing that for a while..." 

And d'Artagnan nods frantically and *fucks* Aramis's cunt, fucks it fast, fucks it and — *yes*, *sucks* it to get Aramis's juices — 

Aramis *screams* — 

His hand is *shaking* on his cock — 

d'Artagnan *freezes* — 

But Athos is right there to firm Aramis's grip, *envelop* his grip and make him squeeze tight and stroke *hard* — 

And Porthos — "That's the kind of scream you keep *going* for, lad..." 

"Oh, oh —" And d'Artagnan sucks another kiss — 

Aramis screams again — 

Tosses his *head* — 

d'Artagnan *slurps* a *filthy* kiss — 

Aramis *sobs*, feet growing roots into the earth as he binds himself in *place* — 

Yeah, now. "Suck in little pulses and *fuck* him, lad, fuck him fast, fast, fast!" 

"Mm!" And d'Artagnan *obviously* obeys — 

Athos squeezes d'Artagnan's neck *and* Aramis's cock — 

And Aramis screams, helpless and sweet, as he carpets the ground in still more flowers and comes all over d'Artagnan's back and his own belly. 

d'Artagnan moans and gasps and moans *more* — and doesn't stop what he's doing for a *moment*. 

Aramis collapses back against the ground and purrs — and winds his vine all the way up d'Artagnan's arm. 

"You'll have to surrender him at some point," Athos says. 

"You have such strange ideas about what is and isn't necessary, friend Athos. He hasn't fucked me, yet!" 

d'Artagnan grunts and *bucks* into the flowers — 

"You see...?" 

But Athos looks *starved* — 

Looks *mad* with it — 

"I...." 

Porthos smacks the back of his head — 

"*Porthos* —" 

"This is what you get for not tossing yourself off like normal people, Athos." 

"I only — it's —" 

"Yeah, yeah, *but*. You can taste him a little while he's fucking Aramis, eh?" 

Athos grunts — 

d'Artagnan lifts his head — 

He still has flowers stuck to him — 

And Aramis grins and plucks them off. "Come *here*, lovely d'Artagnan. Let me kiss your mouth." 

"Oh — oh — even with — even though I haven't washed it?" 

"*Especially* because you haven't," Aramis says, and licks his lips. 

d'Artagnan whimpers and crawls up Aramis's body immediately, kissing Aramis like he's kissing a close sibling goodbye for a long journey — 

Aramis licks his mouth — 

Athos stares at his arse — 

Porthos kisses his shoulder. "Open your mouth, lad. You already know he wants what's in it." 

"Oh — I haven't... you know I haven't..." 

"'s all right. We'll teach you." 

d'Artagnan smiles at them. "I... thank you. Thank you for all of this." 

Thank us by *staying* — 

They don't say it. They *don't*. 

And Porthos kisses a path from d'Artagnan's shoulder to his mouth — 

d'Artagnan laughs like a boy — 

"Thank *you*," Porthos says, and kisses him deep, kisses him wet, kisses him nasty and wet and slow and — 

Ah, fuck — 

Ah, *fuck* — 

d'Artagnan groans and shakes — 

"My turn," Aramis says, and he's sitting up and all but *wedging* himself in to *take* a kiss from d'Artagnan, to cup his face in both hands and mouth and nuzzle and hum, lick — 

d'Artagnan moans and leans in — 

"My — I —" And Athos strokes d'Artagnan's strong chest — 

Gently urges Aramis back — 

d'Artagnan looks *dazed* — 

And then Athos kisses him hard, *hard*, clutches him close and pulls back to bite his lips — 

"Nuh —" 

— only to dive back in and *take*. 

And. Really. 

The only possible thing to do there is tug d'Artagnan away from Athos and kiss him wet again, kiss him soft, kiss him sweet and dirty again, lick him all over his mouth and teach him this kiss, too — 

"Oh, but, I *need*," Aramis says, and Porthos breaks off — 

And Aramis kisses d'Artagnan back *against* him, making it hard at first before nibbling all over his mouth, his tongue — 

His lips and tongue — 

He sucks —

He coaxes and urges — 

d'Artagnan groans and reaches down to fist his *cock* — 

"More, *more*," Athos says, and knocks d'Artagnan's hand away from himself — 

Grips him *tight* with one hand and grips his hair with the other — 

"You're so beautiful, so perfect —" 

"I — I — *Athos* —" 

"This kiss, this one," Athos says, leaning in and making love to his mouth, doing it slowly, relentlessly, *ruthlessly* — and stroking d'Artagnan just the same way. 

And that — 

Porthos growls and nuzzles up to d'Artagnan's right ear while Aramis takes his left — 

"That's the kiss he's *wanted* to give you, lad..." 

d'Artagnan seizes up and bucks — 

"That is the kiss he has *ached* to give you as he stroked himself *brutally*," Aramis says — 

"That kiss is yours, all yours, d'Artagnan..." 

d'Artagnan shouts into Athos's mouth — 

"That kiss is just one of *many* which we have for you..." 

And this time d'Artagnan's shout is out into the air — 

And Porthos can turn d'Artagnan into a kiss that's needy, so *fucking* needy, so — 

He's not teaching *anything* this way — 

He's pouring himself down d'Artagnan's *mouth* — 

He wants to pour himself down his throat —

And Aramis gives him images of d'Artagnan pushing Porthos's sheath back — 

Aramis gives him images of d'Artagnan sucking him, taking him, *swallowing* him — 

Porthos *groans* into d'Artagnan's mouth, laps at him, *fucks* him with his tongue until he must be *choking* on it — 

d'Artagnan is gurgling and moaning and bouncing on his *knees* — 

And it's Aramis's turn, Aramis's turn to show d'Artagnan what *desire* looks like —

Porthos pulls back — 

Athos *immediately* pulls him into a hard and *desperate* kiss — 

Porthos nods and takes it, cups and supports the back of Athos's head with one hand and reaches *down* with the other, down where it's slick, wet, *hard* — 

So *hard* — 

Porthos twines his fingers with Athos's and lets him guide them on d'Artagnan's cock, lets him *show* Porthos what he needs — 

Everything — 

*Everything* — 

They groan together — 

There's the clash and scrape of horn on antler — 

And then d'Artagnan's cock spasms *hard* in their hands — 

d'Artagnan makes a high-*pitched* noise — 

Athos and Porthos turn — 

And Aramis has a vine wrapped round d'Artagnan's throat. Not choking him — quite — but holding him. 

*Leashing* him. 

It — 

"I *need* —" And Athos has to be so *careful* when he wants to kiss someone's throat, so *focused* when they all know all he wants to do is bloody *ravish*. 

He's *shaking* as he sucks kisses to d'Artagnan's throat above and below the vine — 

He's shaking and groaning and stroking him faster and *harder* — 

And d'Artagnan is shuddering — almost *quaking* — reaching for all of them and gasping — 

He's — 

"Please! *Please*!" 

"What do you need, lovely boy? You can have it!" 

"More! Just more! Please more!" 

"We cannot reach your sweet mouth while Athos is —" 

"Then — then — Athos, please, kiss me harder, stroke me harder, *bite* —" 

Athos growls and does just that, kissing and biting everywhere he can *reach* — 

d'Artagnan *shouts* — 

And Porthos and Athos *work* d'Artagnan's cock, squeezing and stroking it and — and loving it, just loving it, loving it the way they *have* to — 

There's no *choice* — 

And Aramis is reaching back — 

Touching d'Artagnan's arse — 

d'Artagnan *screams* — "I — I —" 

"Here, lovely boy. Here is *more*," Aramis says, and Porthos knows he's pushing in with a finger made slick with olive oil — 

Pushing in and — 

d'Artagnan screams *again* — 

Bucks and bucks and — 

Athos has to pull back to be safe with his antlers — 

"No — please!" 

Athos looks *stricken* — but then he growls and makes Porthos stroke d'Artagnan *fast* — 

And Aramis's shoulder is *working* — 

d'Artagnan's mouth *falls* open — 

"That's *right*, lad. Give it to us. Give us everything. *Everything*." 

And d'Artagnan is clutching at Porthos's thigh with one hand and Athos's shoulder with the other — 

He's biting his lip and *working* himself between their hands and Aramis's — 

"I — fuck —" 

"Yours, d'Artagnan," Aramis says. "*Yours*." 

"*Fuck*," d'Artagnan says, throwing his head back and spurting and spurting, all over the flowers — 

All over *them* — 

Athos *points* d'Artagnan's cock *at* himself — 

The only possible thing to do is for Porthos to make sure d'Artagnan is *watching* himself come on the man — 

d'Artagnan makes a sound like a punched cow — 

Athos and Aramis look at him. 

Centaurs can be a rowdy, violent, and incontinent lot when you get them drunk, and they don't care who they punch, Porthos says, in the quiet space they share, and his brothers make soft noises of agreement while d'Artagnan slumps and moans.

His mouth is swollen. 

His cock shows not the *slightest* sign of softening — 

"He should fuck me," Aramis says, with some measure of assurance — which is, of course, hiding the naked greed. 

d'Artagnan's cock twitches *violently*. "I — I — but..." And he licks his lips and looks into Aramis's eyes. 

"'But'?" You do not want this anymore, lovely boy?" And Aramis's eyes soften — 

"I *do*. But... I wonder... should I do other things first?" And he licks his swollen lips — 

And shivers — 

"I want... I want to please all of you. Please." 

And — they're all soft for that. 

And they're all *hard* for that. 

And they're all — 

They're all completely failing to come up with *anything* — no, wait. Porthos takes d'Artagnan's hand and wraps it round Athos's frankly angry-looking cock. 

"Oh — yeah?" And d'Artagnan looks to all of them before settling on Athos. 

Athos groans and flushes deep. "If you. If you could... put your mouth on it. As well." 

d'Artagnan's jaw drops again — "Oh — oh. All right! Like... on the... on the tip?" 

Athos groans *exactly* like a stag, tossing his head helplessly — 

d'Artagnan moans. "I don't know... or I could kiss it? Like I was doing with Aramis's?" 

"*Please*." 

"Which —" 

"*Both*, lad," Porthos says, and swipes up some of d'Artagnan's come from Athos's chest, slurping it off his fingers with relish. "And some few other things, too." 

d'Artagnan opens his mouth —

"Go on, we'll tell you." 

d'Artagnan blushes and dips his head — 

Licks — 

Athos groans again, long and low and *harsh* — 

"That *sound*," d'Artagnan says, and *kisses* and licks the head of Athos's cock while awkwardly stroking — 

Slowly getting his rhythm —

Almost — there. 

Athos groans *again* — 

*Bucks* into d'Artagnan's fist — 

d'Artagnan *sucks* a kiss — 

Athos *coughs* a groan — 

"He sounds like he's in *velvet*!" 

"Oh, no, lovely boy," Aramis says, and scratches d'Artagnan lightly with his woody nails.

"Oh —" 

"If he was in *velvet*, you'd *know* it," Porthos says, and snickers — 

"Most of the times we have almost kidnapped you have happened while our Athos was in velvet." 

"Most, yeah," and Porthos slurps up more come, and then offers some to Aramis — 

"Not all," Aramis says, leaning in *almost* far enough and then stretching his tongue out for it — and making an absolute mess. 

"Fuck, you're beautiful." 

Aramis grins and blows a stream of pink flowers at him — 

Most land right in the fur of Athos's crotch — 

And their lovely lad is working *diligently* on that cock. 

He — 

Hm. 

"I think he should suckle more," Aramis says, thoughtfully. 

"Like a babe?" 

"*Oh*, yes." 

Porthos sucks his fingers clean and runs them through d'Artagnan's soft hair. "You heard that, lad? You know how to do that?" 

d'Artagnan moans around Athos's cock, nodding and slurping — 

Athos tosses his head and *grips* at the earth — 

Fucks up and *up* into d'Artagnan's fist — 

Grits his teeth and *growls* — 

"Yeah, you're making him love it, d'Artagnan. Can you feel it?" 

d'Artagnan nods and suckles more, really getting his *lips* into it — 

Athos gasps and growls *more* — 

Bucks *hard* — 

"*Please*. Don't *stop*."

d'Artagnan shakes his head and keeps suckling, keeps *stroking*, keeps — 

Fuck, such a good *boy* — 

"Yes, yes, good boy, good —" And Aramis growls and leans in, kissing d'Artagnan's back and shoulder blades through his rucked-up chiton. "Do not forget to use your tongue, good boy..." 

Athos *shouts* — 

d'Artagnan flushes *deeply* — 

Porthos tugs d'Artagnan's hair lightly. "You know I want you to do the exact same things to me, right?"

d'Artagnan groans — 

"I want you to suck my cock, kiss it all over, love it up —" 

d'Artagnan drools and *slurps* — 

Athos growls and bucks *hard* — 

d'Artagnan squeezes what looks like *reflexively* — 

And Athos stiffens and grunts and *growls* — yeah, he's coming. 

"Is he filling your mouth, lovely boy?" And Aramis is kissing d'Artagnan all over his back — 

"Will you let us kiss it out of you again...?" 

d'Artagnan *groans* — 

Athos gasps and *shudders* — 

d'Artagnan groans again, opening his mouth and *losing* some of that come — 

"Oh, no, lad, close your mouth up tight, now..." 

d'Artagnan follows orders immediately, nodding and sucking and slurping — 

Athos gasps more and almost croons, tearing up flowers and bucking hard and *slow* — 

d'Artagnan moves his *hand* — 

"*d'Artagnan* —" 

And d'Artagnan nods and nods and obviously *works* to take Athos's length into his mouth. His eyes are wide and his swollen lips are trembling — 

He's shuddering and he smells like *need*, like — 

Like he wants to be pushed right *down* — 

"Not yet, my Porthos, not *yet*," Aramis says — 

Athos is tossing those antlers *violently* — 

And — "D'you like it, d'Artagnan? D'you like having a big cock in your mouth?" 

d'Artagnan moans and moans and tries to take more — 

Coughs and gags and tries to take more *anyway* — 

"Lovely boy, lovely boy, no, you must breathe, you must *swallow* —" 

"Take deep breaths *first*, lad," Porthos says, petting and stroking d'Artagnan's sweaty back — 

Holding his neck — 

Gripping his hair — "I'll guide you." 

d'Artagnan's answering nod is grateful, fervent, *needy* as he gulps air around Athos's jerking and twitching cock — 

*Hard* cock — 

Not getting any *softer* — 

Porthos can sympathize. He's going to need to come... a lot. 

Aramis gives him a questioning look — 

"I'm still good, brother. I'm the one who tosses himself off constantly, remember?" 

Aramis grins and snickers — 

Bends down to kiss d'Artagnan's ear — "While you are gulping, lovely d'Artagnan, take more of Athos's cock..." 

d'Artagnan nods even more fervently and *drops* — 

Coughs again — 

*Growls* around Athos's cock — 

Athos is wide-eyed and panting — 

His feet have shifted into great, dark hooves — 

His fingers have turned black and he's *clawing* at the earth — 

d'Artagnan closes his eyes and sucks *hard* —

"I want to fuck you so *hard*!" Athos says, and he's staring down at the top of d'Artagnan's head — 

He — 

Porthos yanks d'Artagnan's head back so they can look at each other, so they can *see* each other — 

d'Artagnan's jaw drops — 

He begs even though he's got Athos's *cock* in his mouth — 

He — 

Incoherent and needy and *loud*, and — fuck, now, *now*, and Porthos pushes d'Artagnan down, does it slow, *slow* — 

d'Artagnan gulps at the wrong time and they can all *feel* Athos's cock bumping the back of d'Artagnan's throat — 

Feel Athos doing it again on *purpose* — 

d'Artagnan groans and gulps again — 

Takes Athos *in* — 

And Porthos holds him there, just holds him — 

"You just stay there and let Athos fuck you, lad," Porthos says — 

"Stay there and let him *have* you," Aramis says — 

Athos groans and bucks up and up and — *grinds* in, grinds slow, grinds hard, letting d'Artagnan feel that soft, silky fur at his groin — 

d'Artagnan shudders and shudders and groans in his chest —

He's flushing *gorgeously* — 

He's — 

No, no —"Take my place, Aramis —" 

"You need to taste?" 

"I *really* do," Porthos says, stroking down d'Artagnan's long, strong body with both hands while Aramis tangles his fingers and vines in d'Artagnan's hair. 

Porthos massages d'Artagnan a little, works out the tension, *eases* him — 

He wants to take *care* of him — 

Wants to touch him and oil him and *bathe* him — 

Fuck, fuck, just *let* him — 

And they're all moaning for that fantasy, that dream, that *need* — 

And then Aramis hauls d'Artagnan up to take a breath — 

So dazed, so sweet, so — 

"Go on, lovely boy, you only have to take *enough*. We promise we won't deny you!" 

"Not — not *ever*," Athos says, and his eyes are wide and full of moonlight, hunger, the *hunt* — 

And d'Artagnan's arse is right there, right there waiting — Porthos spreads him and doesn't wait, doesn't *hesitate* before kissing that tight little hole. 

d'Artagnan tenses and writhes — 

"He is trying to *scream* around Athos's cock — no, no, lovely boy, close your mouth, keep it as tight as your little hole around Porthos's *tongue*." 

And Porthos slips just the tip of his tongue *in* — 

d'Artagnan jerks and flails — 

Clenches up *tight* — 

"And he has closed his beautiful mouth, so swollen, so soft..." Aramis growls. "I want to fuck it, too. I want everything." 

"*Everything*," Athos groans, and he's fucking that mouth, fucking it hard — 

"Everything," Porthos slurs into d'Artagnan's arse, licking it round and round, spelling it right round the rim — 

d'Artagnan is shivering and starting to *rock* — 

d'Artagnan is groaning in his *chest* — 

Porthos spreads him wider, *wider*, and pushes his tongue deep — 

*Deep* — 

d'Artagnan coughs — 

"Do you need to pull back, lovely boy? Are we hurting you?" 

But d'Artagnan slurs pleas around Athos's cock, desperate and sweet, hungry, *sweet* — 

He's never *had* — 

Porthos takes him, just *takes* him, fucks him and takes every dark and musky hollow of him — 

"*Mm*, he has swallowed and swallowed and *swallowed*, and now our Athos —" 

"I can't — I can't *stop* —" 

And Athos sounds panicked, sounds *driven*, and Porthos understands with all of himself. There's nothing he needs more right now than this lovely arse, nothing he needs more than to make d'Artagnan shake and shove himself back and back onto Porthos's *face* — 

Such a good boy — 

Such a good and musky-*sweet* — 

Porthos *growls* into d'Artagnan's arse — 

"Oh — oh, Porthos, you should see... he is letting me *work* his head on Athos's big cock..." 

Porthos growls *more* —" 

"Up and down... oh, good boy, good boy, you make us so *hungry* for you..." 

And Athos is snorting and gasping, stomping at the earth in an attempt not to *batter* his way into d'Artagnan's mouth — 

Just fuck him, just *fuck* him — 

Plead with all the gods to protect him, keep him safe, make him *sturdy* — 

Help them — 

Help them love their *boy* —

And Athos roars, giving them the feel of himself shoving in, shoving deep and quivering there, holding there while d'Artagnan sucks and mouths and swallows and swallows and *swallows* — 

And Athos roars again and spills — 

Starts fucking d'Artagnan again, starts — 

Starts fucking right into his own *mess* — 

d'Artagnan gurgles and coughs, tries to swallow more — 

Coughs more and gags — 

"No, no, pull him *back*," Athos says — 

"*Yes*, brother," Aramis says — 

"No — wait —" And d'Artagnan is coughing more, but Porthos can roll onto his back, settle d'Artagnan on his *face* —

Hold him there and *suck* at that needy little hole — 

"Oh — oh, gods! *Gods*! I — this can't — this can't be — comfortable —" 

Porthos laughs *hard* — 

d'Artagnan *wails* — 

Clenches up *tight* again — 

His body bounces *clearly* without his mind's permission — "Fuck! I'm so sorry!" 

Porthos growls happily and bounces d'Artagnan himself — 

"Nuh — oh — *oh*, *fuck* —" 

— and then he holds d'Artagnan *still*, holds him in *place*, using a goodly fraction of his strength and fucking him slow, fucking him *deep* — 

d'Artagnan *sobs* — 

Sobs *again* — 

Porthos can feel his brothers coming closer — 

"Oh, d'Artagnan, lovely boy, is it too much?" 

"It's — it's so *good* — how is it so *good*?" 

Athos sighs. "Most humans are quite sensitive there..." 

d'Artagnan whines — 

Struggles — 

Sobs *more* — 

"Should Porthos let you move? Mm?" And Aramis is scratching Porthos's furry hip with his toenails. 

"I don't — I don't know!" 

Athos growls softly. "Will you come this way, d'Artagnan?"

"I don't know that, either, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please, please, *please*!" 

"Let me suck you, lovely d'Artagnan. Let me suck your big, big cock..." 

d'Artagnan yells, clenching tight again and giving Porthos the wonderful feeling of forcing his tongue deep — 

*Forcing* it deep — 

"Please! Please do everything to me!" 

And Porthos is flushing — 

He *knows* his brothers are, too — 

He grips d'Artagnan tighter — 

Holds him — 

*Holds* him, kisses him and sucks and *fucks* him while Aramis settles himself over Porthos — 

While Aramis sucks d'Artagnan *in* — 

d'Artagnan *screams* — 

Struggles *hard* — 

"Just take it, d'Artagnan," Athos says, soft and insinuating, and he shares the feel of his fingers in d'Artagnan's hair — 

Pushing in — 

Gripping — 

Holding d'Artagnan's *head* still — 

"Take it and come just as soon as you can..." 

"Athos! *Athos*!" 

"That's right. I've got you. We've all got you." 

"You — I —" d'Artagnan sobs loudly —

"The tears on your cheeks smell... maddening. Can you see how hard I still am for you?" 

"Y-yes — please — *please*!" 

"Can you see how hard we all are?" 

"Please don't stop! Please none of you *stop*!" 

Porthos shares the feel of d'Artagnan's *flexing* little hole — 

Athos and Aramis *groan* — and Athos says, "We are... linked. My brothers and I. We can share things mind to mind. Porthos just gave us all the feel of your hole, clenching and flexing around his tongue." 

"*Gods* — *please*!" 

"I want to feel that, d'Artagnan. We all want to feel that. We want to open you wide and *fuck* you —" 

d'Artagnan shouts, flexing open just as wide as he can — 

Oh, good boy — 

Yes, good, so — 

"Good boy," Athos says, and Aramis shares the taste of d'Artagnan's come in his mouth, so rich and thick, so musky — 

So — 

Porthos *hums* into d'Artagnan's arse — 

Athos hums into d'Artagnan's needy mouth — 

Aramis hums around d'Artagnan's cock, and d'Artagnan is moaning, gasping, spilling more and *moaning* more — 

Giving everything — 

Giving *them* everything — 

Please let him *stay* — 

Please — 

*Please*, Athos doesn't growl *aloud* when he pulls back — 

When they all pull back so they can lay d'Artagnan out, stroke him, kiss him —

Kiss his dazed face — 

His slack limbs — 

His still-hard and *twitching* cock — 

Porthos and Aramis kiss each other on it, around it — 

Laughing and teasing — 

Mouthing at each other — but. 

They can feel d'Artagnan's shocked look. 

Porthos turns to face him. "Mm? What is it, lad?" 

"You — you just had your mouth — and you're *kissing*..." 

Aramis licks his lips very, very showily — "I would like to put my mouth in the very same place, lovely boy." 

"As would I," Athos says, and strokes the vine still around d'Artagnan's throat. 

"Though we will have to clean your cock before you put it in my cunt —" 

d'Artagnan cries out — 

And Aramis laughs filthily. "Such a hungry boy. We love you very much!" 

And then — there's silence. 

Too much silence. Too much — 

Silence while d'Artagnan stares at them wide-eyed and *wondering*, and — 

None of them have said it. Not even, really, to *themselves*. 

None of them have —

And now they've all been *silent* for *exactly* too long to pretend Aramis's words were nothing. They — 

Athos hums and leans down to kiss d'Artagnan's forehead softly. "One night." 

Porthos winces — 

"One night, yes," Aramis says. "That is what we ask." 

d'Artagnan looks to *him* — 

Porthos *shudders* — but. "One night, lad. One night — and we'll let you go." 

And d'Artagnan looks like he's going to ask a question, like — 

Like he's going to *say* something — 

But all he does is nod, and sit up, and cup Porthos's horns in his hands. "Is this — is this all right?" 

Porthos growls. "Makes me hot. Hotter." 

d'Artagnan's mouth falls open — 

His gaze falls to *Porthos's* mouth — 

Porthos licks his lips — 

d'Artagnan *winces* — 

"d'Artagnan — *mm* —" 

And the kiss is hard, inexpert, *clumsy* — but it comes with d'Artagnan crawling closer, climbing onto Porthos's lap, holding Porthos's horns *tighter* — 

Porthos *growls* more and *grips* — 

His ribs, his hips — 

His *arse* — 

d'Artagnan *gasps* — 

Strokes Porthos's horns like they're *cocks* — 

And Porthos has to force himself to make the kiss softer, slower, give it a little *finesse* — 

But *that* makes d'Artagnan moan and — nuzzle him. *Nuzzle* him — 

"Oh, fuck, lad —" 

d'Artagnan gives him soft kisses, many kisses, *licks* — 

"You're — you're going to drive me mad —" 

"I — I don't know what you want. I just know I want to give it to you," d'Artagnan says, staring into Porthos's eyes and begging, *begging* — 

Porthos groans *helplessly* — and then their little clay pot of olive oil — useful when Aramis isn't right there to drip for them — is nudging Porthos's hand — 

And Aramis is laughing at him. "Friend Athos will fuck me while we *wait*." 

"Good to know," Athos says — 

*d'Artagnan* looks a bit scrambled — but that doesn't last once there are slick fingers in his cleft. That — 

He gets right *focused* for that. 

Right *intent*. 

"All right, lad?" And Porthos rubs his slick fingers up and down and *up* again — 

Again — 

"D'you need something else?" 

"I need... I need to know how you keep your control so *long*," d'Artagnan says, and laughs brightly, beautifully — 

And Porthos laughs with him, stroking and rubbing and focusing on that little hole — 

"Oh — *nngh*..." 

"That's it. Just feel it. And, it's like I said, I toss myself off *all* the time. Athos is a silly arsehole who hardly ever does —" 

"It's *better* if I *wait* —" 

"Like I said, he's an arsehole —" 

"I still haven't made my final decision about whether to gore you or not." 

Porthos snickers. "And *Aramis* — well. It's Springtime, innit? He's *ripe*." 

d'Artagnan moans. "He — you — you slow down? In the fall?" And d'Artagnan turns to look — 

"Very *much* — oh — oh, *hard*, Athos, *hard*!" 

Athos grunts — 

Porthos can't look away from the pound of d'Artagnan's pulse in his throat — 

From the sweat on his skin — 

From — 

Aramis *shouts* — and laughs, flowers flying everywhere. "My brothers, they give me a great deal of motivation to stay awake even — even in the dead of winter — oh, *yes*!" 

And d'Artagnan moans and turns back to him, turns back and kisses him, nuzzles him — "Please. Please push in?" 

"You want it faster, lad?" Porthos is sweating, too — 

Needing — 

*Needing* — 

d'Artagnan bites his lip. "Yeah. Please." 

And Porthos pushes in, forcing himself to be a little slow, a little — 

Letting d'Artagnan feel his thicker, rougher fingers — 

"Oh —" And d'Artagnan presses his forehead to Porthos's cheek and groans — 

And *groans* —

And — "More. Please more. Please —" 

"Deeper?" 

"Yeah — yeah —" 

"Fuck you with it?" 

"Please, yes!" 

"Fuck you like this?" And Porthos works his finger in and out and in again, and it's not really slow at all, and it's not really *easy* — 

"Oh... gods..." And d'Artagnan *licks* him and mutters something incomprehensible — 

"You like that." 

"I need it, I need it —" 

"Just like this?" 

"Please..." 

"More?" 

"Please, more, Porthos, please more, please, I — I think I want to *ride* your hand..." 

Porthos's cock *jerks* — "I think I want to let you..." 

And Porthos can feel his brothers listening — 

Feel them *aching* for this even as they *have* each other — 

Athos is fucking Aramis *brutally* hard — 

Aramis is crying out so high, so *sharp* — 

He's trying to be *quiet* — 

They're both trying not to *miss* anything — 

And Porthos would be just the same. "Here, take this," he says, and fucks d'Artagnan faster with that one finger, fast and *rough* — 

"Oh... oh, *fuck*," d'Artagnan says, gripping and rubbing at Porthos's horns — 

Sending harsh *zings* of feeling all down Porthos's *spine* — 

It — 

"Don't — don't do that too much, d'Artagnan —" 

"Unh? Please — please let me touch you —" 

"You can touch, you can — oh, fuck, do what you want —" 

"Not if you don't *like* —" 

"That's not the *problem*," Porthos says laughing and kissing him, fucking him, *teasing* him with a second finger — 

d'Artagnan pulls back — "Yes! Yes, please! Do it, put it in —" 

"d'Artagnan —" 

"It's all right if it hurts a little — I know you don't want to — oh, fuck, I just need it, I just need something inside —" 

"Something... something a little big?" And Porthos licks his lips —

d'Artagnan winces and *squirms* — 

Clenches — 

Moans — "Or. Or a lot big?" And he laughs nervously. "Please, I. I know you'll take care of me," he says, and looks into Porthos's eyes — 

His own eyes are so wide — 

So *full* — 

Aramis whimpers and sobs and *comes* — 

Athos grips Aramis's hair tight and ruts into him hard, fast, *sweet* — 

And Porthos licks his lips and nods. "I'll. I'll always take care of you. We all will." 

d'Artagnan moans, low and *desperate* — "Give me — give me another finger, please, please, I can take it —" 

"Shh, shh, here — here it comes," Porthos says, pulling out most of the way and just — not hesitating. 

Not *pausing*. 

Just pushing right in with two — 

Slow and slow and *deep* — 

d'Artagnan looks almost *anguished* — 

His mouth is open wide — 

His eyes are squeezed shut — 

He's not making a *sound* — 

"Oh — oh, love, come on, tell me, tell me —" 

"*Please*!" And d'Artagnan opens his eyes — he doesn't focus. He doesn't — 

"Please — c'mon, tell me what you need, tell me... d'you need me to stop —" 

"Don't stop don't stop don't —" d'Artagnan sobs and presses a messy kiss to Porthos's mouth — 

Another — 

Slurs a plea into Porthos's *mouth* — 

"Oh — oh, fuck, love — d'you want me to fuck you like this?" And Porthos starts rocking his fingers cautiously, starts — 

d'Artagnan groans and *slams* himself back on Porthos's fingers — 

He — 

He does it *again* — "Yes! Fuck! *Yes*!" 

And then Porthos hears himself growling, feels himself — 

He's *gripping* d'Artagnan, holding him by the hip, holding him steady and — and fucking him — 

"Gods! *Gods*!" 

"You *like* it —" 

"*Yes*, Porthos!" 

"You — you want more —" 

"Please! Please!" 

Porthos growls and crooks his fingers — 

d'Artagnan *yells* and bounces on Porthos's fingers — 

Gasps and does it again — 

Sobs and *rides* — 

"Oh, fuck, d'Artagnan, yeah, do it, *do* it," Porthos says, catching d'Artagnan's rhythm and fucking him while he rides — 

Fucking him *hard* — 

Fucking him — 

And fuck, but d'Artagnan is still holding him by the *horns* — 

Using them like *reins* — 

Making Porthos prickle and sweat and *ache*, sheath pulling back and back until his cock is just — 

Just *out*, standing up and jerking and spattering them both with needy slick — 

It knows what it *wants* — but right now d'Artagnan needs Porthos's fingers, just his *fingers* — 

He — 

Fuck, he's riding them so *fast* — 

So *hard* — 

He's — "Love. Love. Let me give you more —" 

"Fuck fuck fuck — *yes*!" And d'Artagnan is nodding, grinding, bouncing — he can't seem to stop *moving* — 

Porthos has to use so much strength to hold him *still* — 

But. 

But he can get that third finger lined up — 

He can stare into his beautiful boy's eyes — 

Oh, fuck, he's so — 

"You're so bloody perfect," Porthos says, kissing him hard and pushing in, *in*, stretching him — 

He has to be feeling it — 

He's *shaking* — 

Oh, but he's *grinding* again — 

Shoving himself back and back — 

Dragging himself out of the kiss and resting his forehead on Porthos's cheek again — 

Panting and moaning and — 

Trying to ride again — 

"Love — *d'Artagnan* —" 

"Have to — *have* to —" 

"You *don't* —" 

"I need your *cock*." 

Porthos bucks, crooking hard on *reflex* — 

d'Artagnan *howls* — 

"*Fuck* — *d'Artagnan* —" 

"Oh — oh, *shit*, that was good, that was — can you fuck me that way? Really... really ram your cock against that one spot?" 

And Porthos feels his mind just — stop. 

He — 

He's *aware* that he's fucking d'Artagnan, that his brothers have come closer to pass d'Artagnan back and forth for kisses, more kisses, that he's growling and promising to fuck d'Artagnan just as he pleases, just so hard, just so *hard* — 

He can't think, he can't breathe, he can't — 

Every time he *tries*, d'Artagnan is making love to Aramis's mouth with his own — 

Or being bitten by Athos right on that pugnacious chin — 

Or having hair that's sweaty and lank right in his beautiful face — 

Or — 

Or *looking* at him, eyes wide and full of *one* question: 

"Now, Porthos? Is it — fuck — fuck, *please* —" 

And Porthos can spread his fingers one more time — 

Make that swollen mouth fall open for him — 

Make — 

No. 

"Now, love. *Now*," he says, pulling out and wiping his hand on the grass — 

d'Artagnan groans and finishes the process of taking off his rucked-up, stained, and twisted-round chiton — "Use *this*," he says. "I'll — I'll go home naked —" 

Athos pulls him back into a kiss — 

None of them want to think about him *going* — 

Porthos uses as little of the chiton as possible. 

They're going to want to save that. 

Aramis wraps a vine around it and the root carries it off — 

And Porthos grips their boy again, holds him, laps the sweat from his long throat and his ears — 

"Oh, Porthos, Porthos — fuck — *please* — don't leave me —" 

Porthos's belly *drops* — 

"Don't leave me *empty* —" 

Porthos tries to keep thinking, tries to — but his brothers have him, his brothers are guiding him — 

Guiding him *into* — 

And d'Artagnan grunts *loudly* and finally lets go of Porthos's horns, wrapping his arms around Porthos's neck and holding on so *tight* — 

Porthos holds on tighter. 

Porthos holds on tighter and just — 

Just pulls his boy *onto* him while he thrusts *up* — 

d'Artagnan *shouts* into his ear — 

Squeezes Porthos's hips with his *knees* — 

Porthos pulls him down more, *more* — 

Bucks *up* — 

"*Porthos*!" 

"I won't leave you!" 

"No no no — *oh* — oh, fuck, you're so big, you're so big in me, don't leave me, don't ever —" And d'Artagnan *sobs* in his ear — 

Kisses it — 

Tries to ride — 

Porthos clutches him tight — "Not yet, love, not yet —" 

"Please, please, *fuck* me!" And d'Artagnan looks starved, looks — 

Porthos looks *away* to try to buy some *control* — 

But Aramis is stroking into his own cunt — "Fuck him, my Porthos. He needs you to." 

And Athos is crushing his bollocks while tossing *himself* off — "Now is... now is *not* the time for control —" 

"*Fuck* —" 

"*Please*," d'Artagnan says, and gives him a dozen more soft kisses, two dozen, and he's groaning through them, *clenching* — "Please, I need it, I *need* —" 

And Porthos pulls d'Artagnan up and most of the way off — 

And slams him *down* while bucking *up* — 

"Oh, *yes*!" 

And Porthos is hot all over, burning, *aching*, needing — 

He does it again, just as hard — 

d'Artagnan howls like a *dog*, and Porthos — 

Porthos *can't*. 

He drops d'Artagnan onto his back as gently as he can, bends his legs back — 

"Oh, *fuck* — oh, fuck you're so *deep*!" 

"You're — I'll make you *mine*," Porthos says, and *drives* in, in, *in* — 

And d'Artagnan sobs and reaches for him — 

Pets his *face* — 

Porthos sucks and kisses those fingers — 

Growls and nips them — 

*Bites* them as he *fucks* d'Artagnan, as he slams in — 

*In* — 

d'Artagnan whines — 

Whimpers and tries to spread his legs *wider* — 

Tries to arch up to meet his *thrusts* — 

"Shh — shh — just take — just lie there and *take* it," Porthos says, gripping d'Artagnan's wrists and pinning them down against the grass, holding him down — 

Keeping him — 

Just keeping him — 

Holding him right *there* — 

"You're so *beautiful*!" And he knows he sounds angry, sounds too *harsh*, but it makes d'Artagnan's cock jerk, spatter them both and the ground, too — 

And his brothers are right there — 

Athos is stroking Porthos's back — 

Aramis is stroking d'Artagnan's belly — 

They're whispering soothing things, soothing *nonsense*, but it can't — 

Porthos can't *hear* it over the pound of d'Artagnan's heart, over the need he feels for just this —-

Every time he tries to say please — 

Every time he *sobs* out *please*, and Porthos is losing his mind, losing his — his *control* — 

He's fucking d'Artagnan *harder* — 

So much *harder* — 

d'Artagnan arches beneath him — 

Squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip — 

Pants — 

Pants — 

Screams — 

And Porthos has to kiss him again, has to get right down there and kiss him, have him, fuck his mouth, too, taste him — 

Licks his tears away — 

And then d'Artagnan opens his eyes again and smiles, so bright, so happy and bright, in the moments before his body *convulses* beneath Porthos and he spurts, coming all over both of them — 

Oh — 

Oh, *d'Artagnan* — 

Porthos growls and *remembers* — 

Changes his *angle* — 

And rams his pleasure-button again and again and *again* as d'Artagnan wails and spills, sobs and spills, collapses and *spills* — 

He — 

"I *love* you!"

And d'Artagnan stares up at him dazed and dreamy — 

So — 

So *sweet* — "Porthos," he says, and his voice is — 

So *full* — 

Porthos goes *rigid*, pumping in and *in* — 

Gasping and — 

Needing — 

Spilling *deep* in his boy's arse — 

His smile gets even *dreamier* — 

And then his eyes roll back in his head and he passes out. 

Porthos — stops thrusting. 

Eventually. 

He licks his lips. "Um..." 

He and Athos look to Aramis, who shrugs. "These things happen with humans. We'll wash him and let him rest for a time." 

That they will.


	3. Let's not make — let's make several hasty decisions which will probably have irrevocable effects on the rest of our lives!

The soft cloths they store in the caves are a bit dusty, but the lake-water is warm today, and d'Artagnan doesn't wake while they're wiping him — or each other — down. 

Not even when they can't help but linger a bit on d'Artagnan's feet and toes, which they know from their watching are quite ticklish. 

Athos frowns, cloth in hand. "Perhaps we should have paced ourselves." 

"*Athos*. *Mate*. You were about to fuck him through the *bedrock*." 

"I do have *some* self-control —" 

Aramis gathers the cloths to rinse them in the lake. "Friend Athos, were you or were you not letting Porthos make the plans today?" 

Athos blinks — 

Stares at Porthos — 

Stares at d'Artagnan — 

"I was about to fuck him through the bedrock." 

"Exactly, and —" 

"We still should have —" 

"Done exactly what we did do? Look at that smile on his face, mate. It's *ludicrously* stupid." 

Athos stares — 

Licks his lips — 

"I want to kiss it." 

"With your cock?" 

"... yes." 

Aramis snickers from closer to the lake. 

"I want — I want other things, as *well* —" 

Porthos lies back, resting on his elbows. "You *want* to wake him up so we can start fucking again immediately." 

"... *yes* —" 

"*Toss yourself off*." 

Aramis is wheezing — 

"May I remind you both that we only have one *night*? Did you intend to let him sleep *through* it?" 

"Well, you're vicious." 

"*Porthos* —" 

Aramis joins them, and wraps himself, vine-like, round Athos. "Brother. Sit with us. *Lie* with us." 

"I —" 

"Do it." 

Athos growls, but subsides under Aramis's touch — 

Porthos lifts his nose to see if Aramis is using any of the *special* flowers — no, not yet. 

Maybe soon. 

"I'm not in *velvet* —" 

"But you are *acting* like it," Aramis says, and massages Athos's shoulders. "We have our lovely boy." 

"He is, in fact, right here," Porthos says. 

"He's *going* to *leave* —" 

"And..." Aramis winces. "It must be as the gods will it." 

"Yeah," Porthos says, and reaches for the wine. "That." 

"But before then... before then, we will have pleased him." 

Porthos drinks and drinks and drinks. And swallows. And takes a deep breath. "He'll remember us, brother," Porthos says, and... looks into his fantasies, a little. "He'll remember us. And, maybe, every now and again, he'll walk into the woods come an evening." 

Athos — slumps. "I feel very strongly my relative lack of romantic experience." 

"Well, you can't *get* much experience when the people you're trying *to* experience are all shooting arrows at your well-muscled flanks, now, can you?" 

Athos gives him a sour look. 

Aramis strokes the scar on Athos's lip — the one that will never heal, because the goddess herself had marked him with it. 

Athos shudders —-

"We are not calm, brother," Aramis says, and kisses Athos lightly. "We are not... *easy* with this *wait*. Do not think this." 

"Then... what?" 

Aramis looks back over his shoulder at Porthos, who grins ruefully at him before turning to Athos again. "Think that we're — resigned, a little more than you are. That's closer." 

Aramis nods and *smiles* ruefully. 

And Athos blinks. "Oh." 

"Do you see, brother?" 

"Horribly. Painfully." 

Aramis strokes Athos's face with the petals of a blue flower. "You still had some hope." 

"Yes." 

Porthos nods. "I'm — I'm sorry —" 

"No, it — it's better this way. Without it. I won't be foolish —" 

"Now don't close yourself *off*, Athos —" 

"*Porthos*, you've just said — you and Aramis both —" 

"I *know* what we just said, but... we have to show him our love. We have to." 

Athos frowns hard. "I don't particularly want to be —" 

"Rejected...?" Aramis draws the flower over Athos's mouth. 

"Aramis —" 

"We have to give him our *love*, brother. If we don't... then we *truly* have no hope." 

Athos opens his mouth — and closes it, looking back and forth between them. 

"Not even the sliver of hope we hold between us, mate. Among us?" 

Athos nods, brushing the flower away and licking his lips. "Among us." 

They clasp hands then, reaching over d'Artagnan's sleeping body to do it — only. 

Only d'Artagnan wakes up then, wakes up enough to reach up and clasp hands with them — 

Sit up and smile, bright and wide — 

Bright and wide and so *pleased* —

They're all *staring* — 

*Helplessly* —

One of them has to bloody *say* something — and then d'Artagnan shifts in place and laughs ruefully. "I'd ask you three if I'd dreamed all that, but..." 

Oh — "Fuck — you're... sore?" 

"You're *surprised*?" And d'Artagnan's smile is beautiful, incredulous, *beautiful* — 

And Aramis kisses it — 

"Mm — *mmm*...." 

But Aramis only takes a brief kiss before tucking a flower behind d'Artagnan's ear. "Lovely boy, we have not made love to a human in a very long time." 

"Oh. Really?" 

Porthos licks his lips and nods. "And — I'm surprised and not that you're sore. It's usually easier to be gentle with humans." 

d'Artagnan parts his lips, eyes going dark as he turns to *Athos* — "Is it — is it usually easier for you all not to lose your control?" 

"Yes," Aramis says, and licks *his* lips. 

"Yeah," Porthos says, and gives his bollocks a squeeze. 

"Yes," Athos says, kneeling up and cupping d'Artagnan's face, caressing him, petting him — "I missed you while you were unconscious." 

d'Artagnan smiles. "You had my body the whole time —" 

"No," Athos says firmly. "I missed *you*." 

d'Artagnan grunts. "Oh — oh..." He shivers. "It's — it's Aramis's turn for me to — unless you all say it's not —" 

Porthos licks up the back of d'Artagnan's neck — 

"*Oh* —" 

Aramis *flexes* the vine around d'Artagnan's throat — 

"Oh fuck —" 

And Athos leans in slowly, hungrily, *shakily* — 

Athos *sips* kisses from d'Artagnan's mouth — 

d'Artagnan moans and presses into them gently — 

d'Artagnan lets Athos lead the kisses — 

He *has* to feel that need, that shuddering, aching *desperation* — 

It's *all* of theirs — 

They can't — 

They aren't hiding anything. 

Athos pushes his hands into d'Artagnan's hair again, grips and tugs him *back* — 

"Mm? No?" 

"It's. You choose. It's your choice." 

"Everything is your choice," Porthos says, and bites d'Artagnan's shoulders — 

"Oh — fuck — I like that, I like that —" 

"The choice? Or the bites?" And Aramis tugs on the vine round d'Artagnan's throat — 

"Mainly — mainly the bites?" And d'Artagnan laughs hard. "I don't *know* what I want, other than — more. And to make sure *you* all get what you want." 

"We want you, lovely boy," Aramis says, and his eyes are darkening, widening — 

"Nnh — but. But *specifics*. I... did Athos leave you... sore?" 

Aramis cocks his head to the side. "Yes," he says, and smiles. 

"Oh — I —" 

"But that will make it even better for me if you do choose to fuck me." 

"Oh... will it? Really? I mean... I don't know... I don't know if I can take —" 

Athos growls — 

And Aramis cups Athos's shoulder. "You definitely *cannot* take another fuck... without a bit of healing." 

"I — healing? Am I hurt? And you're a healer?" 

Aramis shrugs. "All dryads have some healing abilities. Plants have within them the power to kill, to cure, to ease, to sicken... many things. *Many* things." 

d'Artagnan nods thoughtfully. 

"Is that what you want, lovely d'Artagnan? To be healed so that you can be fucked again?" 

"Please — *please*! That was *amazing*. I want —" 

"Wait," Aramis says, and moves closer on his knees, stealing a brief kiss — 

"Mm — what —" 

"You will lose *these* feelings," Aramis says, and strokes d'Artagnan's hip. "You won't carry them with you, when you go..." 

"Oh. Oh..." And d'Artagnan frowns and looks down. 

And they're all — aching. 

Worse for the fact that they can't help *hoping* — 

*Dreaming* — 

And d'Artagnan doesn't look *up* before saying, "I — I have to go back home..." 

Of course. 

Of course he does. 

He — 

"I — it's the farm, and my Dad doesn't have any other help, and. But. I could... come back?" And then d'Artagnan looks up again. 

Looks at each of them — 

Looks *into* them. "I know — I know all the stories say that you only get one chance at —" 

"You. You'd want to come back?" And they're all very proud of Athos for getting that *out* — 

They're all bloody *staring* — 

Porthos is clutching at his own thighs to keep from *grabbing*, and — no. "d'Artagnan, lad, *please*." 

d'Artagnan grunts. "I — of *course* I want to come back. I — I'll come back all the *time*," he says, nodding and looking at all of them. "I just have to — to do my *work*, and — but I *promise* I'll come back. You just have to tell me how to *get* here. My Dad always warned me about going too deep into the woods, and — and I didn't even know this was *here*." 

And, for a long moment, they're all just staring — 

"Um. All right?" 

— but then Aramis climbs onto d'Artagnan's lap and kisses him hard, deep, needy, *needy* — 

Garlands them both with flowers that fill the air with musk and sweet perfume — 

Rocks and *rocks* against d'Artagnan and keeps kissing, moans deeply, scratches down his *back* — 

d'Artagnan cries out into Aramis's mouth and clutches him, keeps him close, clutches his ribs and his shoulders and his arms before settling on his hips and *yanking* him close, fucking them together — 

"Oh, yeah, lad, that's got it —" 

"Mm-mm?" 

The question is obvious and adorable and everything is — bright — 

Beautiful — 

*Perfect* — 

Athos is grinning at him like a new day — 

Aramis is throwing his head back and groaning, blowing out streams of red and white flowers to join the hundreds already all around them — 

"I — I — this feels *fantastic*," d'Artagnan says, and keeps riding Aramis's cock, rides it faster, *grinds* — 

"Oh, yes! *Yes*!" 

"Bite his throat," Athos says. 

"Oh — where?" 

"Wherever you want," Porthos says, grinning and giving himself a few quick strokes before slowing it right *down*. 

"Fuck — that's all *over* —" 

"Then do just that," Athos says. "Make him feel you." 

"I want all of you to feel me, feel me the way I feel you — all through me, all over my *skin* — I —" And d'Artagnan groans and *bites* Aramis, right at the join of his throat to his shoulder — 

Aramis gasps and *moans* — 

d'Artagnan bites *harder* — 

"Yes! *Yes*!" 

d'Artagnan *bucks*, clumsily rolls them down until Aramis is on his *back* — 

Aramis grins up at him so sweetly, so joyfully — "Our boy. *Ours*." 

"Unh —" 

"Ours," Athos agrees. 

"*Ours*," Porthos says, and gives himself a squeeze just as d'Artagnan turns to look at him — 

d'Artagnan winces with *lust* — "*Fuck* — I need — I need more —" 

Aramis spreads his legs — 

The scents of *his* musk fill the *air* — 

"Oh... oh, fuck, I." And d'Artagnan scrambles down to bury his face between Aramis's legs again, going *right* for his swollen cunt — 

"*Ahn* — oh, lovely boy, are you — are you looking for Athos?" 

And d'Artagnan groans what sounds like helplessly and sucks, slurps, licks in and *fucks* — 

"Stay... right there, for a moment," Athos says, moving close and spreading d'Artagnan's arse — 

d'Artagnan cries out — 

"Gently, *gently*, Athos," Porthos says — 

"Yes. *Yes*," Athos says — *growls*. He's already gone. 

Porthos can't blame him. 

He dives right in and just — 

Fuck. 

They'd *cleaned* d'Artagnan, but they hadn't shoved the cloths up his arse. He's leaking more now, and Athos is just... sucking Porthos's come right out of him. 

He — 

d'Artagnan groans into Aramis's cunt and licks and licks and eats *him* out, and, really — 

Really, Porthos is nothing but hungry right now. 

He's had his bloody *turn* at this, but — 

*But*. 

He crawls up and takes up d'Artagnan's task of licking and sucking and biting Aramis's pretty throat — 

"Oh — oh, yes, my Porthos, yes — and do you see? Our boy? Our boy!" 

"*Ours*, yeah, yeah," Porthos says, and sucks a *big* mark high on Aramis's throat — 

Aramis groans — "d'Artagnan is fucking my hole with his tongue so sweetly, so — so —"

Porthos slurps his way off. "Hard?" 

"Fast! Fast!" 

Porthos growls. "You like that..." 

Aramis winces with need and moans... 

d'Artagnan is slurping and *sobbing* down there — 

And Porthos has a fair idea of what Athos is doing back *there*. 

And then Aramis's eyes open wide — pupils dilated and *black*. "My — my — he has started — *again*..." 

Porthos licks a path down Aramis's perfumed and sweat-slick body. "d'Artagnan. Don't stop fucking him, if you can manage it." 

"I — I... 's so hard..." 

"I know. Athos is driving you mad —" 

"I want him *in* me!" 

"I —" 

"New plan!" And Aramis *glows* gold for a moment — "Now suck me, d'Artagnan! Suck up all my *juices*!" 

d'Artagnan bends his head and sucks and sucks and *slurps* — and then shudders hard and whimpers — 

*Whines* as the healing obviously *thunders* through him like a *herd* of centaurs — 

Porthos can *just* feel the edges of it — 

He knows Athos can, too — 

And Aramis smiles. "Our boy." 

Theirs. 

Theirs, and when he slumps, Aramis hauls him up over himself — 

"So — so *strong* —" 

"For you, lovely boy, for you and our brothers —" 

"I — our? I —" 

And Porthos has to lift d'Artagnan to his knees again, kiss him, make love to his messy-salty-sweet mouth, reach for that little connection inside — 

Make d'Artagnan *feel* him — 

d'Artagnan *jerks* — 

Groans and kisses him fervently, needily — 

Porthos pulls back — 

Stares into those *wondering* eyes — 

"Our brother," Porthos says. 

"Oh... oh..." 

"Our brother," Athos says, moving up behind d'Artagnan and cupping his dripping cock — 

"Oh, *please* —" 

"Guide him *in*, Athos! Please please, I *ache*!" 

"At other times like this," Athos says, and kisses d'Artagnan's ear — and reaches for the connection among all of them, making it wider and greater and stronger — 

"Oh, yes, please tell me everything!" 

"At other times like this," Athos says, again, and guides d'Artagnan's cock into Aramis's cunt — 

"HNH — oh — oh, he's — he's *swollen* —" 

"Yes. You'll hurt him. But we often tease him at other times —" 

"*You* do, you mean. I can't bloody wait that long." 

Aramis moans and arches and *drives* himself down onto d'Artagnan's long, thick, gorgeous cock — "Yes — *yes* — and both — both approaches are worthy!" 

d'Artagnan is gasping and blowing like a horse, staring almost *wildly* — 

"You've never felt anything like that before, have you," Porthos says, grinning and gripping d'Artagnan's hip so he'll be good and still for Athos and their olive oil. 

"N-no. Fuck — *fuck* —" 

"Just wait. Just wait for something even better." 

"It's not that I don't believe — ohh..." 

"You're already stretched for me," Athos says into his ear. 

"Yeah — yeah —" 

"I only have to make sure there's enough oil. I... mm. I have three fingers inside of you, d'Artagnan... can you feel that?" 

d'Artagnan swallows — 

Sweats — 

Instinctively reaches for *all* of them through their connection —

And Porthos strokes soft circles on d'Artagnan's belly. "All right, little brother?" 

"Little —" d'Artagnan grunts and *bucks* — 

*Sobs* — 

*Shakes* on his knees —"I — I need... to. Move." 

"Are you all *right*, though." 

And d'Artagnan smiles at him so sweetly. So — "I can — I can feel it now. That you'll all take care of me." 

Porthos's cock *jerks* — "*Always* —" 

Aramis tightens the vine around d'Artagnan's throat — and doubtless his cunt, too. "*Always*." 

Athos flares his nostrils and *bites* d'Artagnan's throat. (Always,) he sends all through them. (Always, always, *always*.) And the desperation is still there, but it's Athos, and the only part of them which is surprised by that is d'Artagnan. 

He'll learn. 

He's theirs. 

"I — I *am*," d'Artagnan says, and grins, and licks his lips. 

They're all *growling* — 

"You — Porthos, you have to — you want my mouth, don't you?" 

"All the *time* —" 

"But right now? Can you... stand over Aramis, kind of? Straddle him and face me and —" 

"Oh... shit, yes, I absolutely can," Porthos says, and feels drunk as he stands, drugged on Aramis's pollens and powders as he staggers on his hooves into a straddle over him — 

Aramis immediately starts stroking and petting the fur on his legs — 

And d'Artagnan stares *hungrily* at Porthos's cock, gripping the base with one big hand and taking the head in — 

Slurping and nuzzling and kissing -- 

Suckling and sucking and suckling *more* — 

Using every *lesson* — 

Porthos *groans* — 

*Shakes* — 

"My cock, now, d'Artagnan," Athos says, and d'Artagnan nods vehemently — 

And Aramis croons —

And for a long moment d'Artagnan is only *holding* the head of Porthos's cock in his mouth, rubbing at the sheath restlessly with his fourth finger and his pinky, panting through his nose and *shaking* — 

"How I wish I could — could give you *all* cunts," Aramis says, "But —" And then he's sharing the feel of d'Artagnan rocking back and forth in *his* cunt, sharing that tease, that wonderful, wet-hot-belly-clenching *tease* — 

They're all groaning — but d'Artagnan jerks back — 

Pants — 

"What — what — I felt —" 

And Porthos grins down at him. "You can feel what we feel now, love." 

d'Artagnan gasps — "Do you mean — I can feel... this?" And he *sucks* Porthos's cock — 

Porthos immediately shares the *tightness* of it, the *eager* heat — 

And d'Artagnan *obviously* inadvertently shares the feel of his cock flexing in Aramis's clenching cunt — 

The feel of Athos pushing in slowly, achingly *slowly* — 

Too slowly — 

"Yes, yes, I see," Athos says, and *clutches* d'Artagnan by his hip and shoulder, gives them *all* d'Artagnan's sloppy-wet arse, his healed arse, his clenching-flexing-*needy* arse — 

Athos *shoves* in — 

It's all Porthos can do not to shove into d'Artagnan's mouth — 

d'Artagnan *shouts* around Porthos's cock — 

Shakes — 

Clutches at Athos with his free hand — 

Athos is *panting* — 

d'Artagnan whines and whines and *slurps* at Porthos's cock, sucks at it and nibbles — 

Kisses — 

"d'Artagnan," Athos says — 

(Yes!)

And that sounds like an answer to everything, feels like — 

(It is!) And d'Artagnan's bright laughter is all through them, d'Artagnan's *happiness* is all through them as he moans and kisses and *suckles* more — 

"Oh, you good boy, you —" Porthos growls and gives d'Artagnan a little more — 

Just a little — 

He can't stop himself — 

d'Artagnan sucks and *takes* more than that, opening wide — 

"Oh, fuck —" 

"Please," Aramis says, "please, I can't *wait* —" 

"And — neither can I," Athos says, and kisses d'Artagnan's hairline. "I was going to give you the choice of moving between us or letting me fuck you into Aramis —"

(That! *That*!) 

"That's all I can *stand*, beautiful — you're so *beautiful*," Athos says, gripping d'Artagnan tighter and sharing the feel of himself pulling out just enough to *drive* in — 

d'Artagnan *grunts* around Porthos, flushes dark, flails — and clutches Porthos's cock and Athos's side again. 

He — 

(Again! Please, *again*!) 

And Athos growls and obeys — 

Aramis moans — 

d'Artagnan moans *around* Porthos — 

Porthos *grips* d'Artagnan by his soft hair and holds tight, holds *tight*, because this — 

Athos thrusts again — 

Again — 

Again and *again*, and d'Artagnan's lashes are fluttering — 

Athos is panting so harshly, so *hungrily* — 

Aramis is crooning and *splaying* his legs again — 

*Clawing* Porthos's legs — 

Good — 

So *good*, and d'Artagnan has about half of Porthos's cock now, he's — 

He's groaning around it, sucking hard, slurping — 

Slurping it so *hungrily* — 

Trying to bounce on his knees and getting *nowhere* — 

"Our boy! *Our* boy!" And Aramis is shouting it to the gods — 

They're all *pleading* —

Even d'Artagnan. d'Artagnan wants to be one of them, d'Artagnan wants to be even *more* one of them, and his prayers are incoherent, unpractised, desperate as he sucks — 

As he works his *head* on Porthos's cock — 

As Porthos holds him still and *fucks* him — 

As Athos holds him *bruisingly* still and *fucks* him — 

The inside of d'Artagnan's mind is all pleas, desperate and honest and raw, one endless cry to be given to them, to be fucked by them, to be — 

To be someone who *can* be fucked by them forever — 

Endless and *forever*, and Porthos is growling hard — 

Athos is groaning between roars — 

Aramis is bucking beneath them, desperate — "Touch me! Touch my cock!" 

And d'Artagnan never stops *pleading*, just moves his hand from Porthos's cock to Aramis's — 

Aramis *screams* — 

d'Artagnan tenses and gulps — 

Tries to gulp Porthos *in* — 

Athos shares the feel of himself *pounding* in, one thrust after another after — 

Oh — 

Oh, Porthos wants, Porthos *wants*, and he's always *going* to want, and Athos is driving him right — 

And Aramis shares the feel of d'Artagnan being shoved so deep, d'Artagnan *reaming* him, being *forced* to ream him — 

Aramis *howls* — 

d'Artagnan squeezes Aramis's cock — 

Aramis howls *again* — 

And Porthos grips d'Artagnan's head tight, holds him still, holds him perfectly still, because he's trying to go slow, trying — 

d'Artagnan gulps him *in* — 

d'Artagnan swallows and swallows, over and *over* — 

Porthos *shouts* — 

Staggers on his hooves — 

Grinds *in* — 

And his whole body is hot, his mind — 

It feels like he's *burning* for this, and he's thrusting fast, fast, so — 

They're taking their boy so *hard* — 

They're *fucking* him so hard, and he's taking it, taking all of it, *accepting* all of it — 

So beautifully — 

So *perfectly* — 

And Athos is clutching d'Artagnan by the chest and *throat* now — "I. *Feel* you —" 

""Yeah — *fuck* —" 

"I have to — I *have* to —" And Athos bites d'Artagnan's ear — 

d'Artagnan *shouts* around Porthos's cock — 

Goes *rigid* —

"Oh, yes — *yes*," Athos says, and fucks d'Artagnan harder, *harder* as he whimpers and whines and comes — 

As Porthos chops all his noise to *pieces* and d'Artagnan *comes* — 

As he fills Aramis right *up* — 

"Oh, *yes*," Aramis says — "Mm — *mn* — please, lovely boy, please, squeeze my cock —" And Aramis *screams* —

Screams again — 

Screams *again* — d'Artagnan is *pumping* that cock like a *good* boy, pumping it hard and fast, and Porthos shares the image of giving it short little strokes — 

Aramis howls again, flowers flying *everywhere* — and come spatters Porthos's legs and hooves. 

"Those *scents*," Athos says — 

"*Yeah*," Porthos says, and fucks their boy so hard, so — 

He can't control it anymore, not with all that musk and perfume in the air, not with all that fire in his blood — 

They have their *boy*! 

(I'm *yours*!) 

Porthos *shoves* in — 

d'Artagnan coughs, shakes his head, immediately works to take him back, get the *rhythm* back — 

Porthos pets him, holds him, strokes him — 

He can't manage to be *soothing* — 

He's trying, he's *trying*, but he — 

He's shoving in again, again, and Athos is fucking their boy so hard, *too*, and d'Artagnan — 

(Yes! *Yes*!) 

And Aramis is purring, which is *dangerous* — 

And that's the last thought Porthos manages to have before his bollocks are *encased* in vines — 

"Oh — shit —" 

And apparently so are Athos's — 

And Aramis is purring *evilly*, which shouldn't even be *possible* — 

Porthos is sweating desperately and *pounding* d'Artagnan's mouth — 

Athos has buried his nose in d'Artagnan's hair between Porthos's fingers and is gasping, huffing — 

"Now, my brothers," Aramis says — 

And Porthos's vision *blanks* — 

He's *dimly* aware of Athos *bellowing* — 

Of d'Artagnan's wide, shocked eyes — and then he's coming, shoving in and in and in, pumping his come all over that mouth and throat — 

Messy mouth — 

Beautiful *mouth* — 

Athos yells and *plasters* himself to d'Artagnan's back — he's coming, too. 

They're filling their boy right up, and it's — 

It's the most perfect — 

It's only the first *time* — 

Porthos staggers on his hooves again, yanking control for himself from the spheres by main force — he doesn't want to pull out, yet. 

Not all the way. 

d'Artagnan shakes his head a little. (Stay in. Stay right there, all of you....) 

Athos groans and kisses all over the back of d'Artagnan's head. 

Aramis hums. "I am *almost* satisfied." 

d'Artagnan feels a bit terrified in there. 

"Not to worry, lad. He's *never* *truly* satisfied this time of year. Ripe, like I told you." 

"Oh, yes, you should take a bite —" 

d'Artagnan whimpers. 

Aramis snickers. 

"Be *nice*, you whore. We can keep our boy to ourselves for the rest of the night, you know —" 

d'Artagnan pulls back. "Um. No? I'll... I wouldn't want to... I'll choose. That's how it works," he says, looking back and forth among them. "I'm one of you. Right?" 

Porthos grins.

Athos hums happily — 

Aramis purrs non-terrifyingly. 

"Yeah, lad. That's exactly how it works." 

"Then um — I get to help choose..." 

"Yeah?" 

"This isn't really the most comfortable position for everyone, is it? I mean, for you, Porthos?" 

"I'm fine —" 

"But *is* it." 

"Well... I'd prefer lounging —" 

"Then let's do that," d'Artagnan says, and looks back and forth between Aramis and Athos. 

"An excellent plan," Athos says. 

"Oh, yes. Especially if you immediately put your magnificent cock back in my hungry cunt," Aramis says. 

"Um." 

They'll work it out.


	4. Enter the soldier. *koff*

They're drinking wine by the lake shore and eating fruit from places Aramis swears can be reached by horse, assuming the horse is really good-natured and you're well-outfitted, when they hear... it. 

And, really, it's possible — probable — that they've been drinking too *much* wine, because they really should've heard someone — a human, yet, judging by that heartbeat — creeping up on their lake long before *now* — 

Fuck — 

The sun has been up for *hours* — 

Porthos reaches over to shake Aramis. "Aramis, sober us up —" 

"Yes, yes, let me just remember how to um. Do that..." 

"*Aramis*!"

Athos stumbles to his feet — 

He's half-shifted, which won't *help* — 

"Mate, you've got to —" 

Athos shifts the rest of the way and bellows. 

Right, he's no help. 

*d'Artagnan* is *petting* the stag, which is nice to see — 

Good that he's getting used to them — 

*Interesting* that he's going right for those bollocks —- 

"*Aramis* —" 

"Yes, yes, I —" 

But then the human is — right there, striding out of the trees. 

And armed to the *teeth*. 

And — 

Really quite nice to look at, for an older fellow, and — 

"*Aramis*, now would be a *good* —" 

"Oh, my," Aramis says, standing up and licking his *lips* — 

And shoving an oily and bitter finger into Porthos's mouth —

He's sober. 

He's sober — 

"Get —" 

"Already taken care of, while you were staring most fixedly at our guest."

Athos shifts — 

Snorts and tosses his head — 

d'Artagnan makes a softly disappointed sound — 

"Did you take care of *d'Artagnan*?"

"Oh — no," Aramis says, and crouches and murmurs soothingly — 

And, by the way the armed human *stiffens* at the sound of d'Artagnan's name...

Yeah, they're in trouble. 

"What — bleh — eugh — oh, that was awful! But I suppose I am sober — oh. Hi, Dad! I'm sorry I didn't come home last night, but —" 

"These men kidnapped you." 

"Well — yes, but —" 

"But you're convinced that you *like* them now," the man — d'Artagnan's *father* -- says, and *stalks* closer. 

He doesn't put his weapons up. 

He doesn't get even a little bit less *aggressive*. "Is that right?" 

"Well, *yes*. And — don't threaten them, Dad," d'Artagnan says, and steps away from them so easily, so quick and fleet — 

But was there something strange about his ear? 

"Don't —" 

"Son —" 

"You know, I've never gotten to see you all kitted-out for war like this," d'Artagnan says, stroking his father's light armor, his sword — 

"What — what's that... scent..." 

"When Dad, you know, my blood-father, and my mother, were still alive, he would tell stories about what a good soldier you were. How incredible the mighty *Treville* was —" 

"You — you — you shouldn't be this close, son..." And d'Artagnan's father, this *Treville*, is flushed all over — 

Sweating — 

*Panting*, almost like Aramis is putting out something to distract or — 

But. He's not. 

There *is* a scent on the air. A scent they hadn't even thought about, because it's familiar from a lifetime of loving and chasing and loving *more*. 

A scent that's...

Nymph. 

Porthos looks to Athos and Aramis. 

Athos licks his lips. "I... suppose that even prayers such as ours are occasionally answered." 

Aramis moans softly. "He will be ready for me all the *time* —" 

"Right, that's — but what are we going to do about *that*," Porthos says, and points — 

And *then* looks at the way d'Artagnan is steadily backing his *father* up and up and up — 

Backing him up against a *tree* — 

"Dad, you shouldn't —" 

"*Son*. *Don't*. Whatever — whatever you've been turned into — whatever you've become —" 

"Do you still love me?" 

"Of *course* I do! I — I left the Army — I'd do it again a *thousand* times — you're *my* boy —" 

"Oh, *Dad* —" 

"Son, you have to *stop*. You — you're not human anymore —" 

"The gods told me what I am, Dad," d'Artagnan says, and smiles. "I know all about it. It's all right." 

And Treville wavers at that. They can *all* see it — 

d'Artagnan nods."They told me no one would really be able to help reacting to me the way you are. Not if they really wanted me, deep down..." 

And there's that. 

Treville winces and turns away. 

"I don't want you to hide from me, Dad," d'Artagnan says, and uses his new, inhuman strength to push Treville's weapons aside — 

To make him *drop* them — 

Treville *grunts* — 

"I want you to look at me just like this. I want you to see me just like my new brothers do. You're so hard for me, Papa..." 

"Fuck — you haven't called me that since —" 

d'Artagnan kisses him, and — yeah. 

Treville slumps helplessly — 

Shakes —

And then he reaches up and cups d'Artagnan's face, pushes his hands into his hair — 

Strokes his pointed ears with curiosity and *obvious* hunger — 

d'Artagnan nods and nods and *sucks* at his father's mouth — 

And then Treville *grips* d'Artagnan by the hair and *takes* his mouth, *fucks* his mouth, fucks it hard and fast and then moves *one* shaking hand from his hair to strip himself just enough to grip their cocks together. It. 

Aramis hums. "Nothing. We are going to do nothing about this." 

Athos nods judiciously. 

Porthos continues *staring*, because Treville is *biting* kisses all over d'Artagnan's face and throat — 

"Yes, Papa! *Yes*!" 

"Ah — ah, *fuck* — don't —" 

"Every time you say that — that word, I want to do something — *more* —" 

"What's *more*? You —" 

And d'Artagnan drops them — the move is practised and smooth and *impressive* — 

"Oh — d'Artagnan —" 

— and then d'Artagnan rolls Treville on top of him. "This. This is more." 

"Nnh — you — I'll hurt you, you mustn't —" 

d'Artagnan smiles, sunny and bright —

And Porthos looks back to grin at Athos and Aramis. They *know* from nymphs and their little tricks. 

Especially the one that starts with the nymph's hand on *one* item of your clothing and ends with *all* items of your clothing scattered all over the ground. 

That's a good one. 

That's an old favourite, really, especially the part where the overdressed human looks stunned and lost for *one* moment — 

"Papa..." 

And then utterly and *completely* focused the next. "d'Artagnan... this is what you want?" 

"I want everything. I want — it's how I'm made, but —" 

Treville winces and tries to pull back — 

But d'Artagnan grips him by the shoulders. "What did you think I was thinking about when I was tossing myself off, Papa? All alone, out in the fields?" 

"Oh. No —" 

"My Papa. My *Papa* who threw away everything just to *become* my Dad. My *Papa*, so strong and fit and —" d'Artagnan groans. "You teach me *everything*. You taught me how my body *worked*." 

"It's — it's different —" 

"Too different? Am I not your boy anymore?" 

Treville growls — "You'll always be my *son*!" 

d'Artagnan grins. "Please, then. Please. Give me what I want. Make love with me. They — my new brothers taught me how —" 

"I wanted. I wanted to do that." 

"We did not teach him everything!" Aramis calls out. 

Right helpfully, Porthos thinks. 

Athos nods next to him. 

Treville eyes them like he's thinking of picking up that sword again, which, not ideal, but very attractive — 

"Yes, very," Aramis says. 

Athos nods more — 

And d'Artagnan grips Treville by the chin and turns him to face him — 

"You're so *strong* —" 

"I —" 

Treville kisses d'Artagnan hard, *hard* — 

They can all feel his uneven stubble — 

He hadn't bothered to shave before coming after them, and — yeah, d'Artagnan is turning the kisses into nuzzles, hard, *sweet* nuzzles — 

They can all *feel* that — 

Porthos drops into a crouch and grips his *cock* — 

Treville pants and *thrusts* against d'Artagnan — 

"Papa, *yes* —" 

Treville growls and nuzzles him hard, bites his mouth, kisses him again, again — 

And thrusts — 

And *thrusts* — 

And pins d'Artagnan's arms and licks his whole face — 

"Oh, *fuck*, Papa —" 

"You taste — even more delicious than I always — always imagined —" 

d'Artagnan *bucks* — and wraps his long legs around Treville — 

Holds him *tight* — 

Squeezes him *tight* — 

Treville growls and *ruts* against d'Artagnan, bites and growls and licks him more — 

"Papa — *Papa* —" 

"Do you *like* it?" 

"Y-yes!" 

"I do, too!" Aramis says, and he's lounging on his stomach on a bed of flowers — and *not* blowing any of them at d'Artagnan and Treville. That would obscure his view. 

Athos is still just standing there staring ominously — 

"Why do you think everything I do is ominous?" 

"'cause it is." 

"Hm. I —" 

"I — I want to bite every *part* of you, d'Artagnan!" 

d'Artagnan cries out and *writhes* under Treville, accidentally pulling free of his binding hands and immediately putting his wrists back in place. "Please! Please do everything, Papa! Please hold me down and —" 

Treville *snarls* and bites d'Artagnan's long throat — 

"*Yes*! *Please*!" 

Treville pulls back and *drives* against d'Artagnan, *rides* him — "Tell me more, tell me *everything* —" 

"Please! I will! What do you —" 

"How do I make you *come*?" 

"Just keep *talking*!" 

Treville looks *shocked* — but then he looks starved. "Have your new brothers licked your sweet little arse, yet?" 

d'Artagnan gasps — 

Treville flushes *dark* — "Have they." 

"Y-yes — just two — oh, fuck, Papa, *fuck*, do you want to?" 

Treville strokes down d'Artagnan's arms until his hands are in d'Artagnan's hair again — 

Until he's *pinning* him by his hair — 

"Please, Papa —" 

"I want to lick you — *eat* you — until you're dripping with sweat. Until your cock is dripping with *slick* and *jerking* for every stroke of my *tongue*," Treville says, and thrusts *hard* against d'Artagnan, *works* against him, *fucks* against him — 

"*Fuck* —" 

"I want to eat you until you're *begging* for something *hard*, son. Will you do that?" 

"Yes!" 

"Will you do that for me?" 

"Yes, please!" 

"I want to eat you until you're begging for my *cock*. Until you're *sobbing* for it and promising to do any filthy thing I can dream up if I just fuck. You. *Hard*." 

"*Papa* — oh — fuck — *fuck* —" And d'Artagnan's shaking hard under Treville, shaking and flushed and sweating and *bucking*. 

"Do you want it, son?" 

"Y—" 

"Then *come*." 

d'Artagnan croaks and squeezes Treville what *must* be hard enough to hurt with those long legs of his — 

Treville *grunts* but doesn't stop *riding* him — "*Do* it." 

"Papa — AHN — *UNGH* —" 

And the scents of d'Artagnan's come fill the air just right. It's easier to mark the differences this way — the little hints of *other* that say he's been touched by the gods. 

Marked by them. 

He's still *moving* beneath his Papa, still *giving* — 

And Treville won't last. 

He's got d'Artagnan by his hair and one shoulder, and he's riding his boy in helpless-looking short *jerks*. So rough. So hard. 

So *needy* — 

And Porthos knows they'd looked just like that. Just that mad for it. 

Mad for their boy, who's smiling again, pleased and *bright*, as he reaches up to feed Treville his come — 

Treville closes his eyes and *sucks* it off d'Artagnan's fingers — 

"I love you, Papa!" 

— and then he *slams* against d'Artagnan and comes — 

"Oh — *yeah* — please, please, all over me!" 

Treville *growls* around d'Artagnan's fingers, *yanks* himself back, and aims his spurting cock all over d'Artagnan's chest and belly. 

d'Artagnan grins and mixes it up with his own. 

Treville looks like he might faint. 

d'Artagnan offers the man more come to lick and sends up loud and needy and *heartfelt* prayers for his Dad, his Papa, his *Treville* — 

For him to be theirs, too. 

Porthos looks at Athos and Aramis. 

Aramis sighs and rolls onto his back. "If we must, we will kidnap *him*." 

"Repeatedly, if necessary," Athos says, flaring his nostrils. 

Porthos eyes the blown-out soldier currently eyeing *them* like the predators they are. 

Porthos smiles and waves. 

It's only a matter of time. 

end.


End file.
